


Retail Therapy

by Kenda1L



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (very) minor mention of Adam, But Amazon does and it's everywhere, Crack Treated Seriously, EVEN SPACE, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Minor Angst, SHEITH - Freeform, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro (Voltron)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 01:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19219075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenda1L/pseuds/Kenda1L
Summary: Stress shopping has always been Shiro's guilty pleasure. It turns out that Amazon really IS everywhere.***It takes a few long seconds, but to his utter surprise, the familiar page loads. He scrolls though a long line of goods and gifts, mouth agape. With shaking fingers, he types in his login and is greeted with cheery letters: Hello, Takashi. He blows out a shuddering breath, clicks the search bar, and stares blankly as his mind stalls out. He has no idea where to begin. What he wants.Irritated, he tosses the datapad back on the ledge and presses his palms against his eyes with a groan. It was a stupid idea, for more reasons than one. There’s nothing he needs out here. His bank account is probably closed. He has no home, no address to deliver to. And even if he could buy something, what’s he going to put? Takashi Shirogane, Castleship, Galaxy Who Even Knows, Universe.





	Retail Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> So I hear it's Sheith day today? I wasn't going to post this yet but figured why the hell not. This was meant to be a humorous crack fic thread on Twitter but that changed almost as soon as I started writing. Oops?
> 
> Edited: 07/24/19

Shiro flips to his other side for the tenth time in his endless, futile attempt to shake off the last vestiges of bloody dreams. He closes his eyes. Opens them again. The faces of those he’s killed are etched into the backs of his eyelids and his arm aches with sense memory or the pressure of laying on top of it; he’s not sure which, or if it even matters. When he flips onto his back and rubs at the join between flesh and metal, the ache refuses to leave. Neither do the echoes of dying screams and bloodthirsty cheers.

“Castle, play music. Any music.” The soft, alien notes of some Altean song starts up. It doesn’t drown out the noise in his head, but it quiets it somewhat as he drums his fingers to the beat against his sternum. One song ends and the next fades in, and the next, and the next before he gives up. Sleep is not going to come tonight.

With a groan, he reaches for the datapad on the small ledge he uses as a nightstand and powers it on. He scrolls idly through the alien equivalent of the internet, looking for animal memes or anything that might stand a chance of making him laugh. It’s on a whim that he types in Amazon.com. Stress shopping has always been his guilty pleasure. Adam used to tease, first with amusement and later with irritation, that they would eventually run out of room. He’d left Earth and Adam long before the nooks and crannies of their lives were filled.

It takes a few ticks but to his utter surprise, the familiar page loads. He scrolls through a long list of goods and gifts, mouth agape. With shaking fingers, he types in his login and is greeted with cheery letters.   


_ Hello, Takashi. _   


He blows out a shuddering breath, clicks the search bar, and stares blankly as his mind stalls out. He has no idea where to begin. What he wants.

Irritated, he tosses the datapad back on the ledge and presses his palms against his eyes. It was a stupid idea, for more reasons than one. There’s nothing he needs out here. His bank account is probably closed. He has no home, no address to deliver to. What’s he going to put?   


_ Takashi Shirogane, Castleship, Galaxy Who-Even-Knows, Universe. _

He gets up and does pushups until his left arm trembles and gives out.

***

Shiro is still buzzing with the anxious energy of another battle won. He paces his room, back and forth, back and forth. Five measly steps. Three if he stretches his legs like he craves. He  _ could _ work out the frenetic, frantic whirling of his brain and body in the gym. Maybe beat it out against the battle bots. The idea makes him vaguely nauseous. He’s had enough violence to last him a lifetime, or at least until the next time he’s called to action. Instead, he snatches up his datapad and pulls up Amazon again. He’s visited the site so many times now that the web address autofills. He scrolls through one of the suggested lists and slowly his heartbeat settles back to something approaching normal.

His thumb pauses in its endless upward flick as his eyes catch on a book of myths based on Earth's constellations. He'd looked at it just before leaving and thought that it would make a nice gift for Keith’s birthday before realizing he’d be billions of kilometers away and without enough amity left over to ask a favor from Adam.

He adds it to his shopping cart impulsively and checks out before he can think too hard on it. He pauses over the delivery address, biting his lip until it stings, then slowly types in the address for Keith’s shack. Keith had once confided in halting sentences that even though the main house had burned down, the address was still in the post office’s system. Sometimes he'd send letters no one would ever read.   


(“Just to check,” he’d said, full of defiant vulnerability. “Just in case I ever need it.”)

To Shiro’s utter shock, the transaction goes through. The delivery date leaves him lightheaded and numb. It’s April on Earth. One year, three months, and two days since he’d hugged Keith goodbye so hard their ribs creaked and stepped onto the shuttle without looking back.

Calm settles over him like a warm blanket and with it comes bone deep exhaustion. He sleeps like the dead until the alarms go off and he’s dragged back into battle.

***

It becomes habit. Comfort and distraction and therapy delivered with a few clicks. His finger thunks too hard against the screen and his jaw aches. His teeth will be ground to dust eventually, just one more necessary casualty, one more piece of himself given to the cause.   


He rarely buys for himself. Instead he searches for things he thinks Keith might appreciate: hoverbike parts and tools, a compass to always find his way, and a watch so he’ll always know the time and date down to the atomic second. Wraps for his hands when he splits his knuckles beating another thoughtless comment from Lance into the gym's makeshift punching bag. A new pair of soft leather gloves when one of his rips during a drill.

(Keith insists on clumsily sewing it up rather than allowing the Castleship to repair it. The others don’t understand, but Shiro does. He cancels the order. Sometimes you need to fix things for yourself, even if the results aren’t pretty or perfect.)

Sometimes he buys stuff for the others too. They sprawl over common room couches on a rare day off, speaking longingly of Earth foods they crave and the memories that go with them. That night, he puts in an order for organic almond butter and 99% cacao chocolate for Hunk, barbecue chips and authentic Cuban honey for Lance, and sweet gherkins and peanut butter cookies for Pidge. Gummy worms and spicy buffalo jerky go in the cart for Keith.   


For Allura, he chooses Pop Rocks because he wants to see her face as they pop and fizzle on her tongue. Coran gets ginger candy for no other reason than it reminds Shiro of his red hair. He hesitates before adding Kraft Mac and Cheese for himself. It’s not Stouffer’s, but frozen food seems like a bad idea. He snorts to himself. As if he’s likely to ever see any of these purchases. He still sleeps well that night.

***

His Amazon account goes dormant after he escapes the Galra for a second time, after he finds himself back in the pilot seat of Black. After he pushes Keith into the arms of the Blades.

He doesn’t need it.

***

Keith is the first thing he sees when he wakes. It feels like inevitability. Fate. It feels like home in a way even his own body doesn’t. Keith is the anchor point that tethers him, calls him back and binds him to a vessel that still threatens to reject him if he lets down his guard. Still, Keith can’t be his only port in the storm so he moves into Green, distancing himself even though it hurts them both.

He buys like a madman in the long, interminable hours back to Earth, desperate for an escape from his own head and the jumble of memories that are and aren’t his. He adds items obsessively to his cart because each purchase gives him a few moments to be himself and only himself. He dreams of being catapulted back into the endless realms of Black’s consciousness, left to scream and rage silently forever, or at least until he loses his mind. He snaps awake, touches his face and digs his fingers into his thigh until it bruises. Then he boots up his datapad and buries himself in retail therapy.

***

The war is over. It fails to sound any more real the hundredth time than it did the first. It doesn’t truly hit him until he returns to the hospital after delivering words of peace and hope to the masses. He finds Keith awake and bright-eyed, laughing at something his mother said. Shiro freezes in the doorway. Keith follows Krolia’s gaze to him, face curious and open like it hasn’t been in too long. His smile goes wide and happy when he sees him, then soft and fond when a sound tears unbidden from Shiro’s throat. He holds out his arms and Shiro falls into his embrace.

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs into the crown of his head, holding tight.

“Don’t do that again,” Shiro chokes out. “Don’t leave.”

Keith shushes him and hugs him so hard their ribs creak. “I won’t if you don’t.”

Shiro pulls back. He studies Keith’s bruised and battered face, taking in every imperfect, perfect detail. His jarring, jagged pieces finally snap into place. He lets the brush of his lips against Keith’s answer for him.

***

Earth rebuilds. Shiro and the Paladins throw themselves into the effort. Exhausted, he falls into bed each night and sleeps deeply, rousing only enough to pull Keith in tight when he inevitably climbs into his bed in search of reassurance that they’re both still here.

They find a spare moment one cool fall day and commandeer a pair of hoverbikes. They speed through the war-scarred landscape of the desert, pausing often to reorient themselves in the altered landscape. “It’s probably not there,” Keith hedges, shoring up his defenses in preparation for disappointment. “The likelihood of it surviving the war is…”

Shiro comforts him with a wordless hug, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. Even if it’s not there, he will be. They get back on their bikes and continue their search.

Shiro’s heart lurches into his throat when the ramshackle outline of the shack appears on the horizon. Keith’s whoop of joy echoes across the dunes and Shiro answers with one of his own.   


He sucks in a harsh breath as they pull up under the weathered tree outside. “What the…” Keith murmurs, pulling off his goggles and staring in shock. Shiro knows the feeling. The porch is piled high with boxes and packages in varying stages of weathered breakdown. He can see more through the windows and the door that stands open and crooked on its hinges.

Shiro scratches the back of his head and laughs in disbelieving wonder. “Uh. You know my addiction to online shopping?”   


Keith tears his eyes away to stare at him with a slack mouth Shiro aches to kiss. With a sudden jolt of elation, he remembers that he’s allowed this now. To touch. To love. Keith tilts his face up in eager response when he leans in. When they pull back, Shiro brushes a thumb over the blush staining Keith’s cheeks.   


Keith raises his eyebrows even as his flush deepens. “So. Shopping addiction?” he prompts.

It takes a moment for Shiro to remember they were having a conversation. “Oh! Right. So, it turns out Amazon's reach really  _ is _ universal.”

Keith gapes at him for a moment. Then he tilts his head back and laughs, full bodied and delighted. Shiro hugs him close and joins in. “Most of them are for you,” Shiro admits when their laughter subsides. Keith’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“Come on, then,” Keith says as he disentangles himself and eagerly tugs Shiro towards the shack. “It looks like I’ve got some presents to open.”

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: [kenda1l1](https://twitter.com/kenda1l1)  
> Tumblr: [Votrashed](https://voltrashed.tumblr.com) (mostly inactive)
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * "<3" as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author replies to comments (sometimes it just takes me a while to get over my glee and figure out how to reply.)


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